


you can coax the cold right out of me

by knoxoursavior



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17244668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: “You’re not allowed to do anything tonight,” he says. “You just relax and enjoy the hot tub, and I’ll make you feel good, okay, Blanca?”





	you can coax the cold right out of me

**Author's Note:**

> originally inspired by [this thread](https://twitter.com/dracoryss/status/1077748272016568321)!!!!!
> 
> also hi thank u to [mamorumeowno](https://twitter.com/mamorumeowno) and [completist_](https://twitter.com/completist_) for listening to me stress thank u sddhsjdsdsj

The night sky over the Caribbean is beautiful. There are more stars than Yut-lung can count, more stars than Yut-lung has ever seen in his life. He feels like can spend hours upon hours studying the night sky, wondering what every star is named, what their distance is from this broken world Yut-lung lives in, what planets, what life they have revolving around them.

Well. That’s only half the truth. 

It’s hard to focus on the sky when Yut-lung has Blanca right here with him.

Blanca, who burns quietly in the night. Blanca, who is loose, relaxed at Yut-lung’s side, whose hands are gentle where they’re splayed across Yut-lung’s skin.

Blanca, who looks nothing like the stone-cold killer that Yut-lung first met.

Then again, Yut-lung hasn’t thought of Blanca like that in a long time. It’s always there in the back of his mind. He  _ knows _ —of course he does. He can’t forget how Blanca didn’t hesitate to shoot a boy he barely knew, how Blanca never thought twice about killing for a job, how Blanca’s the one who shaped Ash from a diamond in the rough to a beautiful, sparkling weapon that could cut you if you get too close.

But Yut-lung also can’t forget how Blanca looked at one mention of his wife, how Blanca sounded when he told Yut-lung that one who does not love love cannot be loved either, how, in the end, Blanca did nothing but help Ash hold onto his love and his happiness.

That is the Blanca wrapped around Yut-lung. That is the Blanca who is running his hand up and down Yut-lung’s spine. That is the Blanca sitting next to Yut-lung with his eyes closed and his head thrown back, with his neck and his chest bare, wide open.

Yut-lung could kill him right now, could reach for the bottle of wine they have cooling in a bucket of ice, could break it against the ledge of the hot tub and plunge the jagged shards into Blanca’s heart.

He could, but he won’t. He doesn’t want to.

What Yut-lung wants is to see Blanca drowning in pleasure, boneless and helpless and breathless with it—exactly how he felt last night, when Blanca was in between his legs and he spent hours coming and coming and  _ coming _ with Blanca’s name on his lips,  _ only Blanca, always Blanca _ —

Yut-lung wants to spoil Blanca too. He wants to know what makes Blanca tick, what makes him moan a certain way, what makes him shudder and shiver and scream.

Yut-lung wants to see what happens when he melts into Blanca’s side and presses a kiss into his neck, so he does, and he’s rewarded with a hum, with an arm around his waist, pulling him even closer.

Yut-lung wants to see what happens when he runs a finger lightly along Blanca’s torso, up the plane of his tanned skin, up some more until Yut-lung’s nail catches on Blanca’s nipple, so he does, and he’s rewarded with the sight of Blanca’s lips parting in a sigh, of Blanca’s eyes, dark as they look down at Yut-lung.

“Your hands are cold,” Blanca says.

Yut-lung licks his lips, asks, “You don’t like it?”

He doesn’t stop touching Blanca, and Blanca doesn’t tell him to either. 

Instead, Blanca’s lips curl upwards into a small smile and he squeezes gently where he’s holding onto Yut-lung’s side. Instead, he says, “I’m not sure yet. Maybe you should continue what you were doing so we can find out.”

Yut-lung feels his cheeks warm, feels his heart jump in his chest, feels determination rise in his throat because  _ yes, yes, he wants to find out, wants to know more, wants to map out every inch of Blanca’s body— _

“Okay,” Yut-lung says. He bites his lower lip, blinks up at Blanca until he feels Blanca’s hand tighten around his waist, encouraging. He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

There’s a single drop of water that traverses down Blanca’s neck. It pools in the dip of Blanca’s collarbone, sits there, glistening like a gem icing Blanca’s smooth skin.

Yut-lung wants to lick it up, and so he does. He closes what little distance remains between him and Blanca and he licks a stripe along the curve of Blanca’s collarbone. It tastes like the salt of sweat, of the ocean. It tastes like Blanca’s lips after a long day out. It tastes like the sun.

Yut-lung doesn’t stop there, though. He goes on up Blanca’s neck, along the line of his jaw, until he’s breathing into Blanca’s ear and Blanca’s hand goes from his waist down to his hip, gripping in that way of his when he’s about to pull Yut-lung into his lap. He doesn’t, though.

“You know, I like it when you’re rough with me,” Yut-lung whispers, right into Blanca’s ear. He scrapes his nails along Blanca’s skin, up his chest, across his shoulder blades, up his neck until Yut-lung’s fingers are threaded into Blanca’s hair, damp with sweat and water from the quick shower they took before getting into the hot tub. The quick shower where Yut-lung spent half his time pressed against the wall, one leg hooked onto Blanca’s shoulder, one hand holding onto Blanca’s hair and another grasping desperately at the walls as Blanca took his time, eating him out.

“I know,” Blanca says, and of course he does. He’s the one who leaves hand-shaped bruises on Yut-lung’s skin after all, the one who pulls at Yut-lung’s hair hard so he can press kisses along the line of Yut-lung’s throat, the one who holds Yut-lung down against any available surface and fucks into him as hard as Yut-lung asks him to. Except— “You like it when we take it slow too, don’t you?”

“I do,” Yut-lung breathes. “I  _ do _ . You always know how to make me feel good.”

He presses a kiss into the skin below Blanca’s ear, presses his chest into Blanca’s and feels his nipples dragging against Blanca’s skin. He reaches up with his right hand, the hand not already in Blanca’s hair, pushing Blanca closer to him. He plants it on Blanca’s shoulder, uses it to push himself up so his lips can reach Blanca’s eyes, always soft, always so tender when they look at him. And then Blanca’s cheeks, beautiful when they’re dusted pink, glowing under the dim light of the lamps on their bedside table after Blanca has come all over Yut-lung’s back, or his torso, or his face, or inside him. And then, finally, Blanca’s lips, which are always warm, always gentle, always make Yut-lung want  _ more _ .

Yut-lung feels Blanca’s fingertips brushing against his side—up and down, up and down—over and over again. But Blanca’s touch never goes anywhere Yut-lung needs it, never goes anywhere near his ass or his cock or his aching thighs. This is going to be a long night.

“Want to make you feel good too, Blanca,” Yut-lung says, and he feels Blanca’s lips against his, curling into a smile, feels Blanca’s hard cock pressing against his own. He feels all of Blanca pressed against him, wrapped around him, surrounding him like a security blanket, an embrace reminiscent of nothing Yut-lung has experienced ever since—

Ever since his mother died.

An embrace that makes him feel safe, makes him feel warm,  _ loved _ .

_ I want to make you feel loved too, Blanca _ —

“You always do. Making you feel good makes  _ me  _ feel good, Yut-lung,” Blanca says, and Yut-lung doesn’t deserve the softness in his voice, the unspeakable emotion in his eyes.

Yut-lung is selfish and greedy and all he does is  _ want _ . When he was younger, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it, he yearned for love, ached for it, was willing to destroy everyone who had it because he couldn’t bear seeing it when he couldn’t have it. And then he grew up. He didn’t stop being selfish though.

He left New York, left the family business to Sing even though he knew Sing deserved his own freedom, left so he could find Blanca and  _ learn _ . And it was worth it. It was all so  _ worth it _ .

So he could be here, in Blanca’s arms, melting into him, bathing in his soft, fond words, drowning in his every touch.

Yut-lung doesn’t need money or success or revenge. He just needs this. He just needs  _ Blanca _ .

Yut-lung lets a teasing smile play on his lips.

“You’re not allowed to do anything tonight,” he says. “You just relax and enjoy the hot tub, and I’ll make you feel good, okay, Blanca?”

But Blanca leans in to kiss Yut-lung. But Yut-lung loses his conviction and kisses him right back. But Yut-lung still feels disappointment flare in the pit of his stomach when Blanca pulls away.

“If it’s you,” Blanca says, reaching up to tuck Yut-lung’s hair behind his ear, “then I’m sure I’ll feel good.”

Yut-lung bites his lower lip, watches as Blanca’s eyes catch on the motion. 

“Because you think I’m attractive?” he asks.

He dips his hand into the warm, bubbling water, wraps it around both of their cocks, and he listens to the grunt that escapes from Blanca’s lips, stares at the crease that forms between Blanca’s eyebrows.

“No. Yes—”

Blanca cuts himself off with a groan, with a buck of his hips and a hand tight on Yut-lung’s arm because Yut-lung’s thumb has caught on the head of Blanca’s cock and now he’s running his thumb over the bundle of sensitive nerves that he’s found, milking it until Blanca is shaking, until Blanca is breathless, until Blanca sounds exactly like Yut-lung does when Blanca is knuckle-deep inside him, rubbing his prostate again and again and  _ again _ . 

And then Yut-lung stops, lets his hand loosen around their cocks, lets Blanca breathe just so he can ask, “Well, what is it? Yes or no, Blanca?”

Blanca’s chest heaves as he breathes, and Yut-lung pets Blanca’s nape in time with his breaths.  _ In and out, in and out _ —the rhythm gets slower and slower and slower until Blanca’s breathing is back to normal, until Yut-lung has brought him back down from the brink of coming.

He watches the muscle on Blanca’s jaw jump as he clenches his teeth, watches the tip of Blanca’s tongue swipe across his lips as he wets them. He watches when Blanca finally looks up at him, eyes dark, pupils blown wide.

“Wrong question,” Blanca says, and he isn’t doing anything, just holding Yut-lung around his waist, but still his touch feels like a brand, feels like a reminder— _ you’re mine for as long as you’ll allow it _ .

“Then why am I here, Blanca? Why haven’t you thrown me away like all the other people you’ve fucked?” Yut-lung asks, because there were people before Yut-lung, people after Natasha. They never lasted more than a week, never lasted six months and change like Yut-lung has.

“Because I care about you,” Blanca says, and it takes Yut-lung’s breath away. “Because we want the same things. Because you look at me like you believe that I really could give you what you want.”

“You do,” Yut-lung says, and the words are heavy in the air between them. “You’re everything I want, Blanca.”

There are words on the tip of his tongue but he’s  _ scared _ and he’s doubting himself even though he  _ shouldn’t _ . Because he can read between the lines, can hear what Blanca’s really saying, but—

_ I want to love you, Blanca. I could love you, Blanca. I think I’m already halfway in love with you, Blanca _ —

It’s hard. It’s  _ so hard _ and Yut-lung doesn’t know how some people can just throw these words away like they’re nothing.

So instead, Yut-lung lets Blanca know with his actions.

He closes the distance between them, captures Blanca’s lips in a kiss, presses himself into Blanca as much as he can, until he feels like they’re one and the same, like no one could pull him away from Blanca no matter how hard they try. And Blanca receives him with open arms, keeps him close with a hand on the small of his back and another in his hair.

Yut-lung might not be able to say that he loves Blanca, but he is sure that he loves this at least. He loves how he fits into the empty spaces around Blanca, how Blanca holds him close and never lets go until Yut-lung pulls away, how he feels like he actually  _ belongs  _ here.

He feels Blanca start to grind up against him, but Blanca doesn’t push Yut-lung down, doesn’t get any more assertive than pushing his tongue into Yut-lung’s mouth and pulling at Yut-lung’s hair. And that’s  _ good _ , because Yut-lung has  _ plans  _ and he needs Blanca to keep still while he carries out said plans.

He pushes at Blanca’s chest, taps until Blanca loosens his hold on Yut-lung and Yut-lung can get up, can push himself up until he’s sitting on Blanca’s lap, bracketing Blanca’s legs with his own instead of just having his ass halfway up Blanca’s thighs. He wraps his arms around Blanca’s shoulders, presses kisses along Blanca’s jaw and his throat and his collarbone, and then, into the space between Blanca’s neck and shoulder, he whispers, “Hold me, Blanca.”

And Blanca does. His hands are big and they’re warm and having them around Yut-lung’s thighs makes  _ something _ ignite in his chest, makes him want Blanca in him right now,  _ right now, please _ —

But not yet.  _ Not yet _ .

Yut-lung needs to prepare himself, so reaches down with one hand and opens himself up, muffles a moan against his other hand and grinds down onto his hand because his fingers are not long enough, not wide enough, not satisfying enough. Not  _ Blanca _ , and Yut-lung doesn’t know what to do with the fact that masturbating might never satisfy him anymore as long as he has the memory of Blanca in him.

But it’s fine. Yut-lung doesn’t want to think about that, doesn’t  _ need  _ to think about it. He’ll hold onto Blanca for as long as he can, will fight tooth-and-nail if he has to. As long as Blanca wants him, as long as Blanca still looks at him like there’s something more between them than just lust, just their yearning for something to fill the void inside them, as long as Blanca treats Yut-lung like he’s someone worthy of love, Yut-lung will latch onto Blanca and stay by his side.

For now, Yut-lung savors what he has, drinks up the look in Blanca’s eyes, the way Blanca’s hold on his thighs is  _ tight _ , like if Blanca loosens up his grip even one bit, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from reaching for Yut-lung.

“My fingers aren’t enough,” Yut-lung says, and he takes delight in Blanca’s shaky exhale, in the way Blanca can’t seem to look away from how Yut-lung’s fingers are slowly pumping in and out of his ass.

“Then let me help you, Yut-lung,  _ please _ . I can help,” Blanca says, and Yut-lung knows that, knows that Blanca would do anything for him if he asked, doesn’t even need to pay him this time.

He takes his fingers out of himself. It’s fine. He’s still loose from earlier tonight.

He leans forward, wraps an arm around Blanca’s neck and comes closer until their foreheads are pressed together and he’s breathing in Blanca’s air. He takes Blanca’s hand, guides it to his hard, neglected cock, says, “I want you in me, Blanca,  _ please _ .”

Blanca grunts, presses one, two,  _ three  _ short kisses into Yut-lung’s lips, and then he’s nodding, pushing his cock up into Yut-lung slowly,  _ slowly, slowly _ until he’s all the way in and Yut-lung is sobbing into Blanca’s mouth, digging his nails into Blanca’s shoulder because Blanca is  _ so big, so much, so— _

“I’m sorry,” Blanca says. “I’m sorry. It’ll get better. Just endure it, Yut-lung, I’m sorry.”

And no,  _ no, no _ . Yut-lung isn’t just enduring it, isn’t just waiting for it to get better. Well. Maybe he is, in a sense, but it doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered. Yut-lung likes it when Blanca is inside him, likes feeling full, likes the stretch as long as it’s  _ Blanca _ and Blanca’s cock making Yut-lung see stars and Blanca’s hand wrapped around Yut-lung’s cock, trying to make things even a little bit easier on him.

Yut-lung feels  _ good _ , feels warm and satisfied, feels like he could stay in this moment forever, connected to Blanca and shaking because of the onslaught of pleasure bordering on pain.

He silences Blanca with a mouth over his, with a roll of his hips—just a small one, a slight shift of his torso, but it feels like a  _ lot _ , feels like Blanca is pushing even deeper into him and it makes him want to  _ scream _ . And he does. He screams against Blanca’s lips, moans and cries with every shift of Blanca’s cock inside him, with every buck of his hips up into Blanca’s hand, with every brush of Blanca’s cock against that one bundle of nerves inside him.

Blanca’s cock is unforgiving, unrelenting, unyielding, and Yut-lung  _ loves it _ . He loves it, loves being able to just let himself go and  _ feel _ , being able to surrender himself to Blanca and his cock and his touch and his tender words whispered into Yut-lung’s skin. Yut-lung has had Blanca inside him so many times ever since he first came here and jumped Blanca in the middle of the day, straight from his flight, has had Blanca fuck him into their mattress, into a wall, into one of the chairs on Blanca’s patio, and yet, every time it happens feels like a  _ revelation _ .

He doesn’t want to lose this, will chase after it for the rest of his life if he does because Blanca is everything he wants and  _ more _ .

Yut-lung is shaking, shivering, his breath stuttering, but he manages to push himself up, up, up until only half of Blanca’s cock is inside him, until he can’t take it anymore and he’s pushing himself back down because already, he misses the feeling of being filled by it. So he squeezes down on it instead, and he’s rewarded by a moan from Blanca, louder than he’s ever heard before.

“Am I doing well, Blanca?” Yut-lung asks, even though he knows he is, can feel the proof of it pressing against his insides, but he’s greedy; he wants to hear even more from Blanca, likes the sight of Blanca desperately nodding, desperately wanting him to  _ know _ even if his tongue can’t keep up with the thoughts that must be swirling in his head.

Yut-lung focuses on that, focuses on the shape of unintelligible words on Blanca’s lips, on the glazed look in Blanca’s eyes, uses all of that as reason to continue rocking his hips, to continue squeezing down on Blanca’s cock inside him. Yut-lung lets all these things wash over him, lets go of everything but the thought of Blanca underneath him, inside him, wrapped around him.

It’s his name that Blanca shouts when he finally comes, his hips that Blanca holds onto for dear life, his ass that Blanca slams into. And Yut-lung takes it, takes the bruises and the low moan that renders his name almost unrecognizable, takes the come that Blanca fills him with and welcomes it, lets it drive him to his climax before he files it away as another moment with Blanca, another moment to hold close to his heart, to think about again and again until he’s lucky enough to get another one.

Yut-lung’s mind is hazy with the tail-end of his pleasure, his vision blurring on the edges, but he manages to cup Blanca’s cheek in his palm, manages to store away the look on Blanca’s face, sated and content and so,  _ so _ full of affection that Yut-lung has become addicted to. He barely registers anything but Blanca’s smile, Blanca’s hands, gentle as he pulls Yut-lung off his cock and lay him down on the ledge of the hot tub, barely registers it when Blanca asks, “Feeling okay, your highness?”

Yut-lung groans, tries to slap Blanca’s arm, but fails because his arm feels like jelly and he doesn’t have the energy to do anything but to stare at Blanca, to intertwine his fingers with Blanca’s when Blanca takes his hand, to hold on as he lies there and catches his breath.

And to tell Blanca off, of course.

“Stop calling me your highness,” Yut-lung says, and at this point, he doesn’t know if the flush on his cheeks could get any worse. “It makes me feel like a spoiled child.”

But Blanca doesn’t miss a beat, replies, “I like spoiling you though.”

“Because you care about me?” Yut-lung asks, and he doesn’t miss the way Blanca’s eyes soften, loves the way Blanca comes up to kiss him once again, short and chaste and containing everything Yut-lung could have wanted in an answer.

Except Blanca doesn’t stop there.

Except—

“Because I think I could learn to love again if it’s you I’m with,” Blanca says, and—

And Yut-lung can’t help how his eyes prickle, how they fill with tears that slide down the side of his face, how there’s an ugly sob that erupts from his lips, too quick for him to stop. He’s been thinking the same thing, has had the thought of it stuck in his throat even before he dropped everything and booked his ticket to the Caribbean, but now Blanca has  _ said  _ it, has given form to the thought, has put it out there before Yut-lung could.

But now Yut-lung has been given the option of agreeing or disagreeing or ignoring Blanca’s words completely and he’s just so fucking  _ overwhelmed  _ because of it. 

“Hey, why are you crying?” Blanca asks, but already, he’s kissing Yut-lung’s tears away. Already, he’s close enough that Yut-lung can wrap an arm around his waist and keep him there.

Yut-lung knows what he looks like when he cries, and it’s definitely not pretty. And  _ yet _ Blanca looks at him like he’s more beautiful than the stars.

“I was supposed to take care of you tonight, you know. But now you’re comforting me because I’m a big crybaby,” Yut-lung says. His lips are twisted into a disapproving frown, but it’s hard to keep it up when Blanca starts to kiss him on the lips instead.

Yut-lung gives in, kisses back, and when Blanca pulls away, victorious, he says, “I made you cry anyway, so we’re even. And besides, we have all night for you to take care of me.”

There’s a promise in the curve of Blanca’s lips, a promise that Yut-lung takes in between his teeth and pulls from Blanca until it’s his to hold onto.

“Alright,” he says. “Then get ready because I’ll make sure to take the best fucking care of you, Blanca.”

Blanca laughs.

“I’m sure you will, my Yut-lung.”

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/singeiji) :~)


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